Gold Digger
by WalkingInMemphis
Summary: When a D.C. socialite sets her sights on her lawyer brother's client, a newly off the hook Ian Howe, she gets a lot more than she bargained for. IanOC


**Disclaimer-** Sadly, I don't own National Treasure nor Manolo Blahnik. I'm not quite sure which one I want more.

**A/N**-Yes, I do realize that I'm supposed to be updating my other National Treasure story Fortune and Glory right now (and don't worry! I'm not abandoning it!) but I _really_ wanted to post this first chapter because I thought up this story while doing laps in an iceburg (a.k.a. my swimteam pool) at eight in the morning and couldn't get it out of my head. Um, so please don't kill me and **_review_**!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter One

--------------------------------------------------------------

My first mistake had been to wear the shoes.

I, of all people, should have known better than to break in new Manolo Blahnik stilettos at the Sullivan's Christmas Ball. And while they did compliment my read sheath dress perfectly, my aching feet had also begun to match what the Blahnik saleswoman had eloquently described as "ruby crimson".

Limping out of the main ballroom, I collapsed on a red and gold silk couch in one of the Sullivan's numerous tucked away lounges (conveniently situated for the removal of more than Manolo Blahniks, if you know what I mean) and stripped the stilettos off, wincing as they irritated my new blisters.

The incessant dancing, socializing and general standing at the partyhad practically deteriorated my poor feet. I was never, _ever_ going to wear stilettos again. From now on, it was going to be all flats, all the time. Plus, at 5'6 I certainly didn't need the height anyway. I smugly towered over most of the other girls at the party, though some were younger than my twenty-six. Judging by their envious stares, they had obviously been offered modeling contracts from Ralph Lauren (which, of course, I had had to turn down, as my dad adamantly believed that all models survived on crystal meth and sex).

I was rubbing my feet and feeling quite sorry for myself whenfrom the glimpse of the ballrom I could see I spottedElliot. This, of course, was a surprise within itself, as my older sibling is a complete workaholic and seldom ventures out into civilized society because it requires him to pull the giant lawer-stick out of his ass. Honestly, sometimes I think one of us was adopted.

Of course, normally my feet would take a much higher priority than Elliot, but to my dismay, he had managed to place himself into a social situation that I, as a representative of the Leroux family, had the obligation to extract him from.

Groaning and buckling my shoes back on, I stood up with a hiss and strode over to him, schooling my features so not to show any pain.

"Elliot!" I greeted sweetly, putting on my 'loving sister' face. "I'm so glad you were able to come!"

Elliot had obviously not been practicing his 'loving brother' face, as he almost grimaced at my appearance.

"Hello Kate." He replied evenly. "I didn't know you were here."

This was an obvious lie, of course, as he and everyone else knew that there was not a important party in Washington D.C. that I was not invited to, and did not attend.

I turned and smiled at the girl he had been talking to and the reason of my arrival.

"Sylvia," I asked, displaying my most gracious smile, "Do you mind if I borrow Elliot for a while? I haven't seen him in the longest time and I need a dancing partner!"

Sylvia beamed back at me, even though she knew this another utter lie. As if I would ever need to use my _brother _as a dancing partner. How lowering

"Of course, Kathrine." she agreed.

Thanking her gracefully, I took my brother's arm and led him away, my hold becoming vicelike as soon as she was out of sight.

"What were you doing?" I hissed at him. "You totally know that Sylvia Taylor is only interested in you for your inheritance. Plus, what is she, ten years younger than you?"

Elliot snorted. "That's a bit rich coming from the girl who refuses to consider dating anyone that doesn't make a cool million a year. And don't think I don't remember Mark DiCamillo-you were what, _twenty_, when you dated him? And he was pushing forty!"

"Yes, but he had that _lucrative_ communications empire-besides, he had a very young personality." I replied loftily. "Anyway, what are _you_ doing here? Don't you have that huge case to work on? The extremely-important-I-can't-possibly-be-disturbed case?"

Elliot is one of the most talented (and highly compensated) lawyers in the D.C area. His area of expertise is fraudulent and other federal charges, which basically means that he fights for extremely rich people (like ourselves) who believe that they don't have to abide the law like normal people do. Lately, he's been working for some billionare who went crazy and stole "priceless historical artifacts" and tried to kill of one or two people.

Actually, becoming a lawyer was a highly controversial move onElliot's part because our dad, Armand Leroux, fully expected him to take over the family wine enterprise when he retired. (Yes, we're _those_ Leroux's-If you've ever had a proper glass of wine before, you'll know who we are.)

But after Elliot raked in his first million in eight months, he stopped objecting and realized that as owner of Leroux Wine Enterprises he really doesn't do much anyway, and therefore neither will Elliot. (Of course, Dad never for two seconds considered having me own the company. Thank _God_.)

"My client had a meeting with his associates." Elliot informed me. "So he gave me the night off."

I snorted. (It's a family trait, if you've noticed. My mom says it's a French thing.)

"So you decided to come here? What, did you become social and I missed it?"

Instead of firing a scathing retort, Elliot shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the floor. "Actually, my client wants me to meet him tomorrow night at Giraldi's for conferencing and meeting his associates and instructed me to bring a date."

I smirked. "And you were trying to score Sylvia Taylor? Classy, Elliot, very classy."

"She's the only one I know at this damned party!" he argued. "And now I don't have anyone to bring!"

I recognized his begging expression at once. "Absolutely not." I snapped. "I am not going to the fanciest restaurant in D.C with you to meet some insane criminal! I have _standards_, you know!"

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "That's breaking news to me. Besides, do you think I want to take my _sister_ as my date?"

"Don't be jealous dear brother." I retorted. "If you were a bit more good looking and not socially inept maybe you'd have adorers flocking you too."

Elliot huffed and crossed his arms, gritting his teeth. Then his face relaxed suddenly as he seemed to get an idea.

"You know Kate," he began. "This guy is _really_ rich. Like _ridiculously_ rich."

"And crazy Elliot! You forgot crazy-" I started, and then stopped. "Exactly _how_ rich?"

(Alright, so I'm a_ tiny_ bit shallow-but hey, acceptance is the first step.)

"Like, _richer that Bill Gates_ rich." he persuaded. I turned that idea over in my head for a few minutes. Well, ifthis richer-than-Bill-Gates guydid get off the hook (which he would. Elliot might be a prick, but he's a brilliant lawyer) then he'll definitely owe Elliot a favor….yes, this could work out to my advantage.

"Alright." I conceded. "I'll go with you tomorrow night to Giraldi's to meet….what's the loony's name?"

"Ian Howe" Elliot reminded me dryly.

"I'll go with you to meet Ian Howe." I agreed.

"Looking for another conquest to replace DiCamillo, Kate?" Elliot teased.

"Please. I'm just scoping the guy out. Like _I_ would ever get involved with a criminal." With that, I sped past him to the door.

"Where are you going?"

I didn't even accredit that question with an answer. I was going to _Giraldi's_ to meet a _billionaire_.

Who wouldn't immediately go shopping?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I hoped that you guys liked it! Yes, it probably is going to have a little less...depththan Fortune and Glory, but please review anyway! They make me happy!


End file.
